And he saw me

Late one Friday afternoon a couple of weeks ago, we went walking by the Brisbane river. Such a simple sentence, right? I have loved walking since I trailed alongside my dad as a kid on his morning suburban stretches, air infused with birdsong, drenched in fresh, untarnished light. But, in my younger years declaring ‘walking’ as my chosen sport seemed weak and non-declarative. In these later ‘mumming’ years, I’m an aspirational walker. Just leaving the house can require athletic commitment. Due to an interstate move, a new job for Dr M, a new school year, new virus’, new discoveries, not to mention the transplanting of old fragilities in new settings, and a pounding sun, well, I haven’t walked much at all so far in our time here.

April 17, 2018

Amazing Grace

How can I love you more?

It was mid-1990. I remember it, in a pleasant, hazy sort of way. The Winter Olympics played on a small square television set (who knew then that flat screens were so much cooler), I was acquainted with the thrill of my favourite books, and the secure encirclement of parents who seemed intuitively to understand how to make us their trusted friends.

February 23, 2018

Faith

A Very Restless Christmas

Our eldest comes into the kitchen, stands close beneath my chin and asks me if she can have some flour. ‘We’re not cooking now!’ I reply in my shout-speak. It’s a variation of my usual mum dialect, one I’ve developed on our recent interstate relocation in soaring summer temperatures. I like to think the new environment and pressures have made this elevated frustrated inflection in my tone and general demeanour inevitable.

December 23, 2017

loss

Grief Seeds

And so, here we are again. You’d think, nearly two decades later, we’d know how to do this. This day. November 13.

November 13, 2017

On Waiting

Playing in the Pauses: Some words for the Simmering Seasons

We almost miss out on getting in his taxi. A girl slips in front of us in line —a single, stylish girl with just one suitcase and highly impractical shoes that do nothing to impede her swiftness. Her luggage is already suspended mid-air when one of the fluro-vested airport guys intercepts her at the last moment.

October 12, 2017

Faith

An Angel under the Big M: Stretching the Perimeters of Hospitality

We’re landing, we’re landing, repeated our youngest, J, his eyes lit round with excited relief, his little lungs adjusting to receive the stranger, brisker air of our just arrived destination: the South Island of New Zealand.

September 19, 2017

anxiety

In Tears and Tangles: Remember your Anchor Points

It was the final question I put to the Wise Man before he retired. What do I do if/when anxiety comes back? How do I know I can cope? What if? That same question I always walked in holding in my tight fist, was the same question that sat perched with me on the edge of the couch in that last conversation.

August 1, 2017

Declutter Me: Ambitioning a Quiet Life

Dear Fellow Fragile Earth-Dweller

If you and I, dear friend, stranger, fellow-fragile-earth dweller, were meeting for coffee (although for me, it would be tea, always tea, with milk, and strong), I’d probably start off a little nervous. We’d sit down and make small talk, which has this way of always making me feel a bit small. I might laugh a little too exuberant, or overcompensate irrelevancies. I’d stir the tea leaves, rather than meet your eyes.

July 20, 2017

Declutter Me: Ambitioning a Quiet Life

Surprised by Ordinary Contentment

Sometimes contentment looks less like a mountaineer’s milestone,Or an earmarked achievement dressed up in your best new clothes,The end result of all the things you thought you ever wanted….And more like a secondhand curbside-found round tableAnd a last-minute late lunch on a cloudy Sydney wintry afternoon

July 4, 2017

Declutter Me: Ambitioning a Quiet Life

When Jesus says it’s time to sit still (and step out of the Kitchen)

I’ve always thought of myself as more of a Mary than a Martha. You may be familiar with the biblical story. Jesus comes to visit a couple of M named sisters. Martha plays the dutiful host behind the scenes, buries herself in the kitchen, taking care of stuff. Sure, there are no scan pans, or stainless steel appliances, no on-trend meal plans, but you can see it vivid as day, the woman with her hands furious busy and her head bent down over the meal prep. Maybe she can already feel the muscular tension creeping in, circling its way around the fibres of her neck, even as she hears their voices soft in the background: because when someone walks into your house —when the Lord walks in —you need to pull out some stops.

June 21, 2017